A Little Dream of Mine, a Little Nightmare of Yours
by FiercestCalm
Summary: Stiles is left reeling after Derek rejects him, but he guesses he'll make it through. And anyway, things have a way of coming full-circle in the end.
1. Chapter 1

My first Teen Wolf story! Title comes from the song "Sloom," by Of Monsters and Men.

* * *

Stiles is curled up on his bed, and he's feeling simultaneously like his stomach is the emptiest it's ever been and also like he might throw up. It feels like his heart is living right beneath his throat now, and there's not enough space for it there. He's feeling an almost startling amount of self-pity.

He wants to beat himself up a little. For God's sake, it's not like he and Derek were dating. He'd just harbored a crush on the dude for a while, gone in to kiss him, and gotten rejected. No big deal.

Except his brain is playing back every word Derek said, every disgusted twitch of his eyebrows.

"What the hell are you thinking? You're 16 Stiles. You don't even like me. And I don't like you. Get out of here."

And Stiles had, had stumbled back to his jeep and sat behind the wheel and put his foot on the brake and the other on the clutch and started the car and- well, he didn't quite remember the middle part now, but somehow he'd ended up here, lying on top of his bed. He flopped over onto his other side, staring at the wall.

"You're dumb," he says to the wall. "This is a stupid thing to be upset about. Stop it. Quit it. Give it up."

And with that his stomach drops a little more and his voice does an embarrassing thing where it might be cracking and it might be just breaking and he shoves his face into his pillow instead, but still seems to be talking.

"He's not interested in you. You're just a dumb kid, and you're skinny and you're pale and you're not –"his voice breaks off for real this time, and he ends up just rubbing his face back and forth on his pillow, reasoning that he can't be crying if the tears can't escape in the first place. And he knows, he knows that some of this is being a teenager, and maybe hormones have a part to play in this, but he doesn't care, he deserves a pity party as much as the next guy, and if he chooses to wallow in it, there's no one to stop him.

And that's why he wakes up at 5:00 the next morning, after falling into a miserable sleep at about 7 the night before. He's too awake to roll over and go back to sleep, and besides, the bed just feels like a nest of misery right now, so he takes a shower, and makes himself a nice breakfast, and catches up on his internet reading. Once 6:30 rolls around he is self-aware enough to feel a little shame at how he (he can admit it, perhaps over-re)acted the night before, but there's still a hard ball of sadness sitting in his gut and his brain keeps trying to torture him with images of Derek and his stupidly handsome face as he backed away from the kiss.

So Stiles gets in his jeep and decides to be stupid early for school, even though classes are pretty much over and all that's left of his sophomore year is an easy standardized test and cleaning out his locker. He texts Scott to get ready early and is absolutely flabbergasted when his friend hops out of his house only ten minutes after Stiles parked his jeep in front of it. Scott gets in with his regular dumb grin, and spends the entire ride to school gushing to Stiles about the beach trip he and Allison have planned, and how they've ingeniously hidden it from their parents, and how he's going to have so much sex.

When they finally get to the school parking lot, Stiles hops out of the jeep and goes around the back to grab his stuff, only to find Scott already there, looking at him suspiciously.

"What's up, dude?" Scott asks, sniffing him in what he certainly thinks is a subtle way.

Stiles shrugs.

"Nothing, I'm just… nothing, man."

Scott narrows his eyes at him a bit and scoots closer.

"I'm your best friend, I know when something's gone down. Plus you smell all different. So… what?"

Stiles had considered keeping this whole clusterfuck a secret, but he still feels gross and he kind of wants Scott to have to do the whole nursing back to emotional health part this time.

"Uh, look dude, sorry I didn't tell you, but, I'd had this crush on someone…"

"Lydia?" Scott says immediately, looking confused.

"Not Lydia, so much as a, uh… a dude." Stiles risks a quick glance up at Scott to gauge his reaction. Scott's head has reared back a little and his eyes have gotten a little wider, but he's not burning Stiles with fire or anything, so things could be worse.

"Who?" Scott asks after a moment.

"I don't want to tell you that. I don't think you know him, anyway," Stiles lies, hoping Scott is distracted enough not to read his heartbeats. "Look, I don't want to talk about who he is, just that, uh, I kind of went for it and he turned me down. So, uh, I just…" Stiles shrugs, looking helplessly up at Scott, who is starting to look a little panicked. Stiles barks out a laugh. "It's okay, dude, you don't have to hold my hand or watch chick-flicks with me or anything, I'm just feeling a little bummed out. It'll pass."

Scott nods slowly and starts to regain his normal face position. Finally, he smiles just a little and pulls Stiles into a hug.

"I'm sorry dude, that sucks. Mystery guy has no idea what he's missing. Lemme know if you need anything, yeah?"

Stiles smiles against his shoulder and squeezes him extra hard before letting go.

"Yeah, thanks man. I'm fine, let's just," he makes a sweeping hand gesture towards the school, "let's just go murder the rest of this year and getting started on summer already, right?"

By lunch Stiles sees that Scott has told Allison. He can't even be mad about it, it's like Allison is covered in catnip and Scott just has to roll all over her and while he's doing it his mouth flaps around and releases secrets. Stiles snorts at his own imaginary scenario while he slides in to sit next to Scott. Allison smiles at him without any pity, and Stiles appreciates that.

"So look, Stiles, Scott and I were planning this beach trip next week, and I know Lydia hates being alone with her parents all summer, so I was thinking of inviting her, and we just were wondering if maybe you'd want to come too?"

Stiles smiles at her. He knows they just want to keep him from wallowing by himself at home, but he appreciates the gesture, and the beach actually sounds kind of nice. Before he can open his mouth, though, Allison's eyebrows furrow and she starts again.

"Oh, it's not going to be weird for you with Lydia, is it? I mean, I know… well. She doesn't have to… "

Stiles shakes his head.

"No, it's really fine, not awkward at all. It'll help us move into our really being friends phase, instead of her ignoring me and me pining." Stiles is a little startled to discover that it's actually true. Something about kissing Derek just sucked out any remaining feelings for Lydia. And now he's thinking about kissing Derek, about the split second sensation of their lips pushing together, about that one moment where he thought Derek was actively participating, where he might have actually wanted Stiles back. And then, of course, the look of disbelief, of disgust, that someone that looked like Stiles would actually kiss someone who looked like –

His train of thought must have shown on his face, because Scott nudges him in the shoulder harder than is strictly necessary. His quirked eyebrows say "Are you okay?" and Stiles shrugs and nods back. By then Lydia is sitting down next to Allison, and they're discussing beach plans already, and it's nice, and Stiles starts to feel that warm glow of having people who like you. It's doing its best to battle the cold ball in the pit of Stiles's stomach, and Stiles is hoping that beach sunshine will take care of the rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles is pretty sure Allison told Lydia about his pseudo-breakup, but he can't be sure. Lydia keeps giving him the side-eye, and besides being terrifying it's completely confusing. Finally, after they've been at the beach less than ten hours and Stiles has already moped for around 6 of them, Lydia invites him to walk down to the beach with her. He agrees, if only to escape the oppressive air of cuddles that surrounds Scott and Allison on their first trip away together.

They make their way silently to the beach, and Lydia primly lays out a towel and sits on it. Stiles shrugs and flops onto the sand, looking out at the waves coming in, sun just beginning to set behind them. After a few minutes of awkward (for him, at least) silence, Stiles finally breaks.

"Did Allison tell you? It's okay if she did, look, it's not that bad, stop looking at me like that?" He ends with a squeak and quiets under Lydia's intense stare. She eventually breaks into a real, sincere smile, one that Stiles is sure he's only seen two or three times despite watching Lydia obsessively over the last ten years or so.

"Stiles, are you really over me? For real this time?" Lydia finally asks, and Stiles balks, wondering with dread if this is actually an ego talk about Lydia.

He nods slowly and starts, "Yeah. I mean, you're still totally hot and the smartest person I've ever met and all that but, yeah I just… grew out of it?" He ends his statement like a question, hesitantly looking up at Lydia. She smiles that nice smile again, and Stiles finds that it makes him feel good in a totally friendly and completely non-sexy way. Lydia nods with decision at him.

"Good. Good, because this would be awkward otherwise. Look, Stiles, I didn't want to ever tell you this, because I was afraid you would latch on and never let go of me, but… Okay. It's not that you're unattractive. And you talk all the time, and that's annoying, but it can be endearing too. And I know that you're smart too, like really smart, like almost as smart as me." Lydia meets his eyes and pokes him with her elbow. "Got it?"

Stiles tries to keep up, but seems to be stuck on her first point. "You think I'm attractive?" He says, and it's really unfair how his voice chooses to crack on that sentence.

"You dummy, of course you are," Lydia huffs. "You just need a little work around the edges. I have a plan, okay?" Stiles must have a terrified look on his face, because Lydia laughs at him. "You're my personal project for the summer, Stiles. By the time you get back to school you're going to be the hottest new gay… gay?" She stops and looks at Stiles, quirking one eyebrow.

Stiles shrugs. "Bi? Maybe? I dunno…"

Lydia nods. "Okay, hottest new bi thing at school. The girls will be all over you and the boys will all be having their own private gay panics about you."

Stiles shakes his head, a disbelieving smile on his face. Lydia stops him before he can even open his mouth.

"Stiles, shut up. You're my project now, do you know how many thousands of dollars other people would pay for this privilege? So relax, it's going to be fun."

Stiles wants to believe her, but the creepy grin on her face makes him a little apprehensive.

* * *

Stiles wishes he'd taken more video over the summer, if only to compile it into a cheesy 80's montage he can show to Scott. Lydia manages to get him tan at the beach, a feat he's never managed on his own. When they get back to Beacon Hills, she takes him on bi-weekly mall trips, and he must try on 8,000 different outfits which are basically indistinguishable to him, but Lydia studies each one carefully and declares them a yes or a no. Stiles spends the meager savings he has, but he's at least saving a little money on razors – Lydia convinces him to grow his hair out a bit, and instead of leaving it in a fluffy pile on his head, like nature intended, she shows him how to slick it with just enough gel for it to look messy in a deliberate way. She tries to coach him behaviorally, but ends up storming out of his house in a huff, yelling back to him that he may be a lost cause after all. Stiles tries not to take it too personally and decides to just double up on his Adderall and hope that things even out in the end. All in all he feels okay about himself and he's pretty ready to make his makeover walk down the school hallway, following in Isaac and Erica's footsteps before him. And if he still sometimes thinks of Derek's face, of the feel of his lips, of the fleeting touch of his fingers, well that's just lingering sense memory. Nothing to worry about, and he definitely doesn't still curl up in bed sometimes and torture himself with thoughts of what might have been.

So he's actually kind of looking forward to the first day of Junior year and letting Lydia show him off a little. He did stick to his guns on his jeep, which Lydia really wanted him to swap out for basically any other vehicle, but he managed to impress on her just how little money he had and kept out of the conversation how much he loved his jeep. So that's what he drives up in on the first day of school with Scott, who keeps glancing over at him with weird little looks. Stiles shrugs it off and walks confidently up to the double doors and gets ready for his triumphant slow-motion walk down the hall. Which is…. a little disappointing, actually, because there's no music playing and no one actually turns around and does a double-take, but also no one shoves him into a locker, so he counts it as a win. Plus, he's guessing the reason Erica got so much attention after her make-over had a lot to do with the boobs sticking up out of her almost-certainly-breaking-dress-code corset, and he doesn't have any of those, so no big deal. But he does run into Lydia near his locker, and she smiles at him and points out the at least three girls in the hallway shyly tucking hair behind their ears and glancing his way, and the one dude who has his eyebrows furrowed way too much and can't seem to stop shooting his eyes in Stiles's direction. It's a win in Stiles's book, and he goes into his first class with a grin on his face and doesn't think about Derek until at least third period.


	3. Chapter 3

Shit starts to go down this chapter, and Derek actually shows up! Warning for some quick non-con touching and kissing.

* * *

It's not like Stiles has been actively avoiding Derek. It's just that no supernatural stuff happened over summer break, or if it did no one needed Stiles's help with it. Plus, since school's started he's been busy with – well. This guy Dylan, who he was acquaintances with last year, started hanging around him a little more. In class when they needed to pick partners Dylan always seemed to be there, smiling shyly across the room at Stiles. And when they started talking it turned out they had a lot in common, they read the same comics, played the same video games, all the important stuff. So it seemed natural when Stiles started inviting Dylan over after school, and pretty natural that a few weeks after that they started kissing. Stiles likes Dylan, thinks he's cute, and Dylan likes him, and it's easy.

So Stiles has been kind of busy making out with Dylan, and he misses a few pack get-togethers that Scott tells him about at the last minute. Finally one night Scott texts him, and Dylan is busy with a family thing, and Stiles thinks he might actually go out to the old Hale house and see how everyone is doing. He is man enough to admit to himself that he really, really doesn't want to see or talk to Derek, but even more than that he doesn't want Derek to think he's avoiding him. That would mean that Derek would know that he hurt Stiles's feelings, and that thought makes Stiles's stomach drop, so he texts Scott back that he'll give him a ride, and that's that.

When they show up, Erica and Isaac meet them on the porch. Erica is touching Stiles all over and cooing over his new look, rubbing her hands through his hair and subtly (or not so subtly) touching his abs through his shirt. Stiles laughs at her, feeling that brotherly affection for her he'd forgotten about after not seeing her for so long.

"So," Isaac says, and if he's also touching Stiles's shoulder and moving his hands over his back, no one's saying anything, "Any truth to the rumors that you and Dylan King are going out?"

Stiles smiles and shrugs and feels a little shy and it's a completely new and not unpleasant feeling.

"Yeah, I guess. We're… yeah, we're going out."

Isaac smiles at him. "Good, Dylan's a good guy. We hung out a lot last year." Isaac keeps talking, telling Stiles about how Dylan tried out for the lacrosse team but tripped epically over his own feet, and Stiles has heard the story before but he laughs because it's still a good story. They move inside and everyone's got a hand on Stiles somewhere and it feels really, really good. Feels like belonging somewhere, like being in a pack. Until they make it to the semi-refurbished living room and Derek is just standing there, arms crossed, face like a thundercloud. Boyd is sitting on an old couch, looking nervous and pointedly not looking in Derek's direction. Isaac and Erica quiet down, and Scott unconsciously tightens the hold he has on Stiles's arm.

"Get in and sit down," Derek barks, and Stiles seriously reconsiders his decision to attend the meeting tonight. Derek is not looking at him, but he can see his nostrils flaring, knows he is sniffing Stiles. Stiles plops down on the couch and looks at the floor, trying to keep his heartbeat steady and definitely not wondering what Derek can smell on him.

Despite his serious demeanor, Derek doesn't actually have anything of substance to tell them, besides some rumors of fairies in the woods, and Stiles does his best to keep a straight face and not make any jokes, because he's pretty sure if he did he'd be leaving the house without his neck. Eventually the oppressive atmosphere lessens, and the betas and Stiles relax and start joking around, and eventually someone brings a laptop out of a bag and they settle in to watch a DVD. When it's over everyone stretches and makes to leave, and Scott steps out to call Allison, and Stiles finds himself in the room alone with Derek.

Stiles stretches his arms over his head and gives an exaggerated yawn. "Welp," he says, eyes flitting around the room but not looking at Derek. "Thanks for having us over, letting us know about the, uh… the fairies." He risks a glance up, but Derek is looking at him with the same blank face as always. "Just let me know if you need any fairy research. Cause I'm pretty good at Google, but I've got to say I'm a little worried about just typing that in, I'm definitely not image searching it, but it's possible there's some information out there somewh-"

"Stiles," Derek interrupts him, and then stalls out. It looks like he has something to say, and his nostrils are flaring again, but when he opens his mouth again he just says, "Good night."

Stiles nods and scrambles off the couch, backing away towards the door. "Yeah, good night Derek," he mutters, and finally turns around and leaves, grabbing Scott's arm on the way to the jeep.

* * *

He and Dylan last another two months, and then they amicably break it off. Stiles gives himself a day to mope, and Scott comes over and they play Halo for roughly 8 hours, and do not talk about feelings at all, and it's nice. Stiles always thought that maybe after long enough he'd develop stronger feelings for Dylan, that he'd move from just liking him to something else, but it never comes. And Derek's face still haunts him in the night sometimes, and he punches his pillow and thinks about how not fair it is that he has a great boyfriend and can't help thinking about another man who probably can't even remember his name at this point. It's not like he thought of Derek while he and Dylan were making out, or the few times Dylan gave him a blowjob (mostly he was thinking, 'oh my God I'm getting a blowjob') and definitely not when he was giving Dylan a blowjob ('oh my God don't let your teeth touch it, Jesus'). He just appeared out of nowhere sometimes in Stiles's brain, and as dumb as it was, he felt like Derek was keeping him from feeling anything deeper.

The next day Danny comes by and Stiles finds himself staring at him from the doorway, being undoubtedly very rude. The thing is, Danny didn't become his gay guru or anything, because for one thing Stiles didn't think it was cool to assume the one gay guy he knew wanted to be his Yoda, but they were still kind-of friends, and they still talked, just not enough for Danny to randomly show up to his house.

Finally he realizes Danny's been standing there for probably a full minute while Stiles stared at him, and he invites him in. Danny takes it with his usual good grace, and they spend a minute gossiping good naturedly about school and their teachers and classmates and teammates before Danny goes quiet and leans forward on the couch to look at Stiles.

"Look, Stiles, I heard that you and Dylan broke up."

Stiles nods, then shrugs, then combines them into a weird nod-shrug hybrid.

"Yeah, we did, but it's cool, it wasn't anything too serious."

Danny nods and stands up.

"I was planning on going to Jungle tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. You know, some post-break up dancing, it'll make you feel better."

Stiles feels oddly touched, and he stands too and pulls Danny into a semi-awkward hug. Danny laughs and pats him on the back.

"Yeah," Stiles says, "Yeah, that sounds nice. I guess you need to go home to get ready or whatever, but why don't you swing by here before you go and I can drive us there? Also you can instruct me on what to wear to make me irresistible to gay dudes. "

Danny grins. "Yeah, and the low light will help with that," he teases. "Sure, I'll be around by 9 or so."

* * *

When they first get to the club Stiles is a little nervous, but he tries to remind himself that he's hot now and everyone's going to love him. He pulls on Lydia's encouragement from when he texted her, her assurance that he's definitely going to get some ass tonight, and tries not to be scared by that. Another plus side to his make-over is that the bartender actually accepts his fake ID this time, and Stiles gets a drink, determined to nurse it all night so he can still drive them home. Danny hangs by him for a while, and they dance together some once Stiles relaxes. Danny teaches him to lift up his arms, to move his hips to the music, and doesn't laugh at him too much, so Stiles feels okay about it. Eventually a tall brunette takes a liking to Danny, and they slowly move away from Stiles until he can barely see them. He's dancing by himself now, but it's okay because there's a lot of people on the floor, and Stiles feels a little sexy, and he's not surprised when a burly dude comes up behind him and presses up against his back. He's not Stiles's type, which Stiles isn't even sure he's figured out yet, but he's big (bigger than Derek) and blonde, and he has a mustache, which makes Stiles want to laugh. He figures a little dancing is harmless, and maybe a Long Island Iced Tea has more alcohol in it than its name implies, because he's feeling good, and loose, and doesn't even move away when he feels a hard cock rubbing up against his back.

Stiles isn't stupid. He knows not to let anyone give him a drink at the bar, knows not to set his drink down anywhere and come back to it, but it's just a second. He only looks away for a second, searching the floor for Danny, and he looks back and nothing has changed except Mustache's hand is around his front now. It's getting a little too grabby and Stiles starts to move away. Mustache tries to pull him back, and Stiles leans back to yell over the music,

"Just gotta take a piss!"

Mustache laughs at him, and Stiles slips away, and then heads to the bathroom to add some verisimilitude to his lie. He still doesn't see Danny, and he actually pees, just to have something to do, then stands in a dark corner near the bathroom sipping his drink, feeling a little overwhelmed. He looks down to see he's just sucking on ice cubes now, the drink is gone, and his head is feeling decidedly fuzzy. For a few minutes he imagines he's drunk, and is annoyed he'll have to call a cab, and his dad is definitely not going to believe he was out playing video games with Scott, which is what he told him.

But then his head is still fuzzy, and his fingers and toes are starting to feel tingly, then numb, and Stiles tastes blood in his throat. His heart is beating faster and he pushes himself off the wall, yelling, "Danny!" even though he knows he's nowhere nearby. Instead Mustache appears in front of him, a not-so-friendly leer on his face.

Stiles's heart is beating almost out of his chest now and he whimpers, falling back onto the wall. This is not – this happens to other people, not him, he was careful, his father is the Sherriff –

Mustache grabs at his arms and presses Stiles against him, shoving their lips together. Stiles whimpers again and tries to pull away but he can't, he can't, and he can't THINK and he doesn't know if it's real or not when he hears a familiar roar.

Mustache lets go of his arms suddenly and Stiles collapses to a heap on the floor, and he's not sure what happens next, not sure what happens before his eyes slide closed and brain shuts down.


	4. Chapter 4

This is what Stiles doesn't see:

Isaac and Erica get a text at the same time and giggle to each other, and Derek happens to look over their shoulders and see it.

Our little boy's all grown up!

Out in the gay club getting some ass!

So proud! *tear*

~Lyds

He pointedly does NOT growl, and he may leave the house immediately after reading that, but it's a complete surprise to him when he ends up outside Jungle.

Derek stands outside the club, around the back, where he doesn't have to see anyone else. He closes his eyes and concentrates, and he can hear it. Stiles's heartbeat, strong and steady, maybe a little slow from alcohol. If he listens harder, he can hear indecipherable words between Stiles and that boy he's seen a few times, Danny. Derek nods, knows he should walk away now, knows this is the epitome of what Stiles calls his 'creeper' behavior. But there's something so calming about that heartbeat, about knowing Stiles is nearby and safe.

So Derek may eventually slide down the wall, and sit with his back against it, and close his eyes to block out everything but that steady beat. And he may be halfway to sleep when he startles. For a split second he doesn't know what's wrong, but then he hears it again. That steady heartbeat is too fast now, thumping and skipping and not right. Not right at all.

Derek runs to the back entrance of the club, his own heart picking up speed. He tears the handle off the door, and over the cacophony of the club, hears a terrified and familiar voice yelling, "Danny!" from the other side of the floor. He's running, pushing dancers out of the way, close, so close… And there he is. He could almost say he meets Stiles's eyes, but the other boy's pupils are blown wide, mouth open and panting, confused and scared. He definitely doesn't see Derek and Derek is pretty sure he's not seeing anything at all. There's a man holding him, manhandling him towards the back of the club, and Derek is only a few feet away when the brute presses his face up against Stiles's, grabbing the back of his head roughly and smashing their lips together.

Derek can't think, can't breathe, can only see the man's large hands on smaller biceps, Stiles's weak struggles, the fear in his eyes. Derek roars and is in his beta form before he has any concrete thoughts about changing, his claws in the man's back, ripping him away. He roars in his face, and he and his wolf are on the same page – they want his blood, want to rip his throat out until he can never touch Stiles – Stiles. He lets the man go and he crumples on the floor, wide eyes fixed on the wolf. Derek smells his urine in the air, and he turns away from him, disgusted.

Stiles is crumpled in a heap on the floor next to a small pile of broken glass and ice cubes. Derek kneels down next to him and feels his nails retract back to their human length as he gently turns his head. Stiles's eyes are closed, but his heart is beating a little closer to normal now, if still erratic. There are murmurs from around them, people who know there's something going on in this corner, and the crowd is pressing closer. Derek picks Stiles up beneath his back and his knees and lifts him. He heads towards the door he broke into, pressing through the crowd, not letting anyone touch Stiles. Not again.

Before he exits he sees Stiles's friend, Danny pushing through the throng towards them. He looks stricken, eyes bouncing between Stiles's limp body and Derek's face. Derek shakes his head at him, mouths, 'taking him home,' and slips out the door.

* * *

Stiles wakes up once during the night. When he opens his eyes he's in his room, which is okay. Safe. But then he sees a dark shape up against the window, and he remembers, can feel harsh lips on his lips and bruising hands on his arms and his heart is pounding and his mouth is dry and his head hurts. He sits up quickly, scrambles to the back of the bed, but when the figure approaches it's just Derek. Safe. Stiles breathes out shakily and Derek helps him get back under the covers. Before he slips back asleep Stiles is pretty sure he hears himself say,

"I have the weirdest boner right now."

He's asleep before he can hear Derek's surprised chuckle.

* * *

When Stiles wakes up again mid-afternoon sunshine is coming in his window, and he's alone. There's a glass of water on his nightstand, and he chugs it down. He feels tired, like he hadn't just slept for 12 hours. He starts to snuggle back into his bed when the nausea hits him, and he barely makes it to the hall toilet before he spills his guts. That's basically how the rest of his day goes, spent between the bed and the bathroom, but at around 8:00 he finally is starting to feel normal again. Up until then there's little room in his head to think about what happened the night before, about Derek and about… well, maybe he just doesn't _want_ to think about it.

His dad came in at 7, gave him an raised eyebrow and repeated back his words from the night before, "Video games with Scott?"

But he doesn't pry, and Stiles doesn't offer any information. Ginger ale and a bowl of chicken noodle soup materialize by his bed soon after, and it makes Stiles feel warm and also cold, hit suddenly with the amount and severity of the lies he's telling his father.

At 8:30 he finally remembers to check his phone, and he digs in the pocket of his jeans, discarded on the floor, to find it. And doesn't _that_ give him pause, that somehow magically he went from being fully dressed to sleeping in a t-shirt and his boxers, but it moves to the back of his mind when he sees that he has roughly two million missed calls and texts. He responds to Danny's first, which get more and more frantic, saying he wants to know what happened and why Derek Hale was carrying him last night. Next is Scott, who Stiles had plans with in the afternoon, which he spent puking, so he's semi-honest with him and says he has a hangover, sorry. One from Lydia, asking how the night went with a winky face, and that makes Stiles feel nauseated again, so he deletes it. The last one is from an unknown number, and it just says, 'Okay?' Stiles has a pretty good idea who it's from, and so sits for almost ten minutes composing and erasing replies before he finally types, 'Yeah. Thanks,' and pressing send.

When he finally puts down his phone it's 9:15 and Stiles is sitting on the floor, staring down at his hands. It wasn't a dream, Derek came to his rescue in the club the night before. Stiles doesn't know what he was doing there, but he remembers seeing him in his room during the night, fuzzily remembers gentle hands guiding him under the sheets.

And he _knows_. He knows that he feels something for Derek, has felt something for months. He could go back to school on Monday, pretend this didn't happen, ask out one of the three or four girls who's been eyeing him, but suddenly he doesn't want to. He wants to finish this, to ask Derek again, to most likely get his heart broken again. But someone who hates you doesn't nearly kill a guy for you, someone who hates you doesn't carry you home and make sure you live through the night. And Stiles has to know for sure before he makes any other moves.

The next day is Sunday, and Stiles's dad is working a double, and he decides he'll find Derek, talk to him, make sure they both understand what's going on, for better or for worse. Then Stiles levers himself up off the floor, flops back into his bed, and falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I had some real life stuff going on, and also it was hard to write because FEELINGS and TALKING. Anyway, this is officially the last chapter, unless I feel inspired to write a porny epilogue. So I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please drop a review! Thanks!

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It's not quite as easy as Stiles's tired brain thought it would be, but there he is, parked a short distance away from the Hale house. He seriously, seriously considers doing a three-point turn and parking facing the road so he can make a quick escape if necessary, but he knows Derek is faster than even his most panicked run, and the position of his car will not help at all if things turn south. He's taking deep breaths and practicing a few possible openers when the front door opens and Derek steps out. He's wearing a white tank and sweatpants and is squinting against the setting sun and his hair is just on the other side of perfect and it hits Stiles that Derek had been _sleeping_, and although he knew that must logically happen sometime, he never really considered it before.

Derek actually looks cute, and that makes things less intimidating. Stiles feels a smile forming as he opens the car door, but he still wasn't expecting Derek to walk barefoot down the steps and meet him halfway.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks gruffly, and reaches up to grasp Stiles's chin and turn his head back and forth, looking at his eyes. Stiles just looks at him for a moment, stunned, before he remembers that the last time Derek saw him he'd been drugged.

"Oh! Yeah, fine, was real pukey yesterday and I probably slept for 30 hours but I'm feeling pretty much normal today…" for some reason Stiles feels embarrassed, knows his cheeks are pinking, and he looks over Derek's shoulder to say the next part. "Thanks, man, for… uh, for taking me home and everything. If you hadn't, if that guy had… It would've been bad. Thank you." It's hard to get out, he doesn't want to say it, but he wants Derek to know. When he glances back up at Derek's face the other man's eyes are fierce.

"I wouldn't have let him do anything to you," he growls, but the fight drains out of him and he begins to look almost nervous. "Stiles, if you need to… talk about this, I'm not sure I'm the best person to –"

Stiles can't help but bark out a quick laugh at Derek's obvious distaste for the word 'talk,' and thinks he should put him out of his misery sooner rather than later.

"No, man, that's not why I came here. I don't need to talk about it, it's fine, really. Just kind of gross and a little, uh… scary, yeah it was scary, I'm manly enough to say it, but I'm not going to unload all my issues on you, dude, I'm a little worried about the advice I'd receive, anyway."

Derek looks immeasurably relieved and Stiles feels a little bad about what he's going to spring on him next.

"Listen, Derek, can I come in?" He realizes almost as he's saying it that it might be a terrible idea, looking at the burnt out husk in front of him, but Derek just gives him a long look before turning and walking back towards the house.

They end up in what Stiles imagines must be the living room, because someone's dragged an old couch in there and there's a card table unfolded in one corner, and oh this is just getting depressing. But he still plops down on one side of the couch and ignores the dust that plumes out of it, not too surprised when Derek just stands in front of him and looks at him expectantly.

"This is about… well, it was a long time ago, maybe you don't remember? But we, uh, we kissed? And you were kind of a dick about it?" This is not going as Stiles imagined. He thought with his new hotness and slowly growing confidence he was better than his voice slowly rising in pitch and ending sentences with question marks. But Derek is blinking at him, actual surprise showing on his face, and that new expression bolsters Stiles, and he motions to the other end of the couch. "Just sit down, you psychopath."

Derek does, but only on the edge of the couch, eyes tracking Stiles as he moves.

"Anyway, I guess I just thought that since you rescued me last night, maybe you don't hate me as much as I thought you did. And I wanted to let you know… Jesus, okay, Derek, I think I still have the feelings that were behind me trying to kiss you. And I still want to. Kiss you. I tried to forget about it but I _couldn't_, and I can't, and I need you to tell me no forever right now, so I can move on."

Derek's eyes widen at Stiles's speech, but he doesn't betray anything else on his face, and he takes a few moments to think before answering.

"First of all," and his voice is deep, and Stiles is trying not to look at his lips, "You're part of my pack. I wouldn't let anyone get away with touching any of my pack like that, regardless of my personal feelings for them." Derek bares his teeth just a little and Stiles sees just a hint of fangs growing there. He knows Derek has impeccable control and it's just to show he's serious about the threat, but he can't focus on that, can only think about _personal feelings_ and how he thinks that might be a confirmation that Derek does, in fact, hate him. He puffs out a sigh and curls his arms around his knees on the couch, and he must look pathetic, because Derek sighs and says, "I don't hate you, Stiles."

"But you don't _like_ me," he says in a quiet voice. Derek sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, sounding a little frustrated, and that makes Stiles feel defensive.

"You explicitly told me you didn't like me after I kissed you, and you pushed me, and you looked at me like I was a bug you had stepped on! So why shouldn't I believe that that's what you mean?"

Derek stares at him.

"I didn't mean – " Derek sighs loudly and jumps up off the couch, pacing in front of Stiles. Stiles thinks it's a little much for _him_ to be the one acting like he's the most frustrated here.

"Stiles, I was confused then. We'd barely ever spent any time together and you'd never let on that you felt anything for me. I thought you were just experimenting, and I didn't want to be that for you." He seems to be struggling and Stiles lets him think for a minute.

"I'm… I apologize if it meant more to you. I was not very… sensitive."

Stiles outright laughs then and lets himself relax a little more on the couch.

"You were a total dick and you know it. Look, I really don't know what point you're trying to make, but here are the facts – I kissed you then because I had a crush on you. And I had a crush on you because you're hot, first of all, have you seen yourself, Jesus, and second of all because I liked working with you, and I liked running with you, and I felt compelled to save your life when you were nearby." He looks down at his hands in his lap. "I still feel those things. I didn't like not talking to you for months. I do like you, Derek."

"What about that boy you were with?" Derek asks, and there's something nasty and aggressive in his tone. Stiles tries not to rise to it and shrugs.  
"Dylan? We were just having fun. We were basically just buddies that kissed," he doesn't mention the blowjobs, because he's getting a premonition that that may be a very bad idea. "Things were easy with him. And they're not easy with you, and maybe that's why… that's why I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Derek sighs, lets go of his anger and sits again.

"Stiles, you're 16 – "

Before he can even get the last syllable out of his mouth Stiles has jumped up on his knees on the couch, getting up in Derek's personal space.

"No, Derek! You don't get to play that. If I'm old enough to get paralyzed by a lizard monster, set a werewolf on fire, and get beat up by an 80 year old, I'm old enough to know my own feelings."

It takes a moment afterwards for Stiles to realize his face is mere inches from Derek's, that he can feel the other man's breath on his throat. He can see Derek's adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"Stiles," he says quietly, and meets his eyes. "I don't do things half-way. This has to be something you're sure about. Because if we start this, and you change your mind, and start hanging off some other fucking high schooler –" Derek takes a deep breath and stares right into Stiles's eyes, trying to convey his seriousness. "I will eviscerate them, and I will take you home and tie you to my bed."

Stiles is pretty sure Derek was trying to scare him off, but he feels his cock twitch in his pants and his mouth fall open. If pressed, he would've said he could never get hard from a sentence that includes the word 'eviscerate,' but hey, you learn something new every day.

Derek must smell it on him, or see it in his face, because he growls low in his chest and pulls Stiles down, rubbing his cheek against Stiles's neck. Stiles lets out a completely manly whimper and reaches behind Derek to grasp his hair.

"You're – oh – you're not just after me for my new hot bod, are you?" Stiles jokes, then jerks as Derek moves up to nuzzle behind his ear.

"I thought you looked good before," Derek whispers, right into his ear, and Stiles wonders if he'd be able to hide coming in his pants from a werewolf.

Stiles breathes out harshly and turns his head, meeting Derek's lips. He's hit with a sudden feeling of déjà-vu, and has a terrifying moment where he's sure Derek will push him away, will never speak to him again, but instead he lets out the smallest of noises against Stiles's lips and Stiles can't help pulling him closer, letting his tongue wet Derek's bottom lip.

Derek's pulled him half onto his lap by now, and his hands are running up and down Stiles's back. Stiles is trying his hardest not to rut up against his leg, because he doesn't think Derek's too far gone for a dog joke.

"Derek," Stiles breathes, and reaches down to cup Derek's cock, which is hard and pressed into his thigh. Derek hums with pleasure, then stops and tenses a little. He gently wraps his fingers around Stiles's wrist and pulls his hand down to rest safely on his thigh. Stiles looks at him curiously. It doesn't look like Derek is outright rejecting him, but maybe he's just wised up and is being less of an asshole about it this time.

Stiles scoots out of Derek's lap and onto the other end of the couch, looking down at his hands. Derek waits a minute and then stands.

"Stiles," he starts, and Stiles makes a noise. It's just a little one, he doesn't mean to, but it sounds hurt and a little desperate and he absolutely hates himself for it. But Derek hears it and drops to his knees in front of him, lifting his head up and kissing him gently.

"No, Stiles, it's just – I can't –" Stiles finally looks up. Derek is watching him almost helplessly before he catches Stiles looking and steels his face.

"If we're going to do this," he says, and Stiles's heart lifts, "if we're actually doing this, I don't want – Look, Stiles, I don't have the best… romantic… history. I want to do better."

Stiles watches him struggle with his words and finally takes pity on him.

"You want us to go slow," Stiles says quietly, careful to keep any trace of pity or disappointment out of his voice. Derek nods at him, and his eyes are wide and vulnerable. Stiles leans forward and kisses him gently, and when he pulls back that look is gone. "Okay. Okay, I can do slow. Derek, I have… ugh, gross, but I have stupid _feelings_ for you and I want to do this right, too. Let's just hang out, huh? Be friends. Friends who kiss sometimes. And hold hands."

Derek growls at him, lip hitching up in disgust. "Don't push it, Stiles."

Stiles grins at him and pulls him up to sit beside him on the couch.

"So…. No TV? You really need to look into getting an apartment, dude."

Derek bumps their shoulders together.

"I have an apartment, you idiot. Just because you only ever look for me here doesn't mean I don't go other places."

Stiles lets out a dramatic sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I don't think I could have survived if you didn't have a TV. Okay, let's go to your place, I'm sure you have terrible taste in movies and I want to see if you have like a Sega Genesis or something, you dinosaur."

Derek punches him in the shoulder lightly, but pulls him up and sets his arm around him as they walk out.

"I bet I can beat the shit out of you at Mario Kart," he says, and Stiles chokes on shocked laughter.


	6. Epilogue

Sorry this took so long to do! But here's the porny epilogue, hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

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Epilogue

When Derek knocks on the window, Stiles has a hand in his pants, lazily jerking himself off. He startles badly and whips his hand up into the air, as if to show Derek that there's no hanky panky going on, even though he obviously knows better.

For some reason he feel s monumentally embarrassed. It's not like Derek doesn't know that he jerks off, but Stiles has been trying to keep sex out of the picture for them until Derek is ready. He's 16, but he's not an animal, and he can control himself with a perfunctory wank every day or two. Or twice a day. Whatever. Besides, he's pretty sure he didn't look particularly sexy doing it anyway, seeing as he was not that into it and only about half paying attention at all. But when he finally meets Derek's eyes he sees hesitation, sure, but mostly an overpowering sense of desire.

He slowly stands and opens the window, stepping back to allow Derek to drop in.

"Hey," he says, trying for casual. They've been seeing each other for a couple months now, enough that it's not too unusual for Derek to show up at his window, but usually he at least sends a text beforehand.

"I was thinking of you," Derek mutters, by way of explanation. "Sorry to interrupt."

Stiles laughs. "No problem. Nothing I can't take care of later."

Derek pulls him in then, and Stiles is expecting one of the chaste kisses they usually share. He's a little surprised (and pleased) when Derek's tongue gently swipes along his lips, and downright shocked when his hands slip up under Stiles's shirt and begin brushing up and down his spine. Stiles links his hands behind Derek's neck and pulls their bodies together. He can feel that Derek is hard against his thigh, and he can't help but pull back and stare at him, a huge grin on his face.

"You were thinking about me?" He squeaks, not at all embarrassed anymore. "More like you were fantasizing about me! Or you had a sex dream about me! You want all of this!" Stiles is practically yelling in delight, gesturing at his own body, and Derek cracks a tiny smile before pulling him in close again.

He noses against Stiles's ear and whispers, "So what if I did? What're you going to do about it?"

Stiles shudders again, hands tangling in Derek's hair, pulling him up for a rough kiss. Derek's hands make their way back under his shirt again, and when one brushes against a nipple Stiles gasps into his mouth, then pulls back a bit and takes a deep breath. He's still smiling, but his voice is serious when he says, "This okay? You'll tell me to stop if you want, yeah?"

Derek doesn't look at him, moves down to suck at his neck, but Stiles hears a quiet, "Yeah. "

By the time they make it to the bed, Stiles's neck is blotchy all over, and there are fingernail tracks down Derek's back. Derek's laying down, Stiles pulled on top of him, kissing frantically. Stiles is pretty sure if this goes on too much longer he's going to start dry-humping him, and that's not a pretty picture, so he slips his fingers up under Derek's shirt and tugs on it, the international sign for 'off.'

Derek complies quickly, then without hesitation pulls off his jeans too. Stiles sits back on his thighs, unabashedly staring.

"Commando?" he asks, and his voice is a little huskier than usual. Stiles has seen him shirtless before, has certainly thought of those muscles often, but is fixated on something new – Derek's cock jutting out, large and flushed and shining at the head. Stiles involuntarily licks his lips and sees Derek huff out a quick breath. Without much thought, he leans forward and takes the head into his mouth, tonguing around the slit to lick up the pre-come.

Derek moans, surprised, and his hands jump to Stiles's head and hold on to his hair. The slight tug makes Stiles moan, which makes Derek moan again and pull harder. Stiles dips his head down, taking as much in as he can and fisting one hand around the base of Derek's cock. He slowly runs his tongue up the shaft, flicking it back and forth over the sensitive vein under the head before popping it out of his mouth. When he looks up, Derek is staring at him, mouth parted slightly. He pulls him almost roughly by the hair up to his mouth, and slams their lips together, tongue grappling for position in Stiles's mouth. Stiles bucks up against him, still in his jeans, and Derek grabs him and flips him so that he is straddling Stile's legs. He makes quick work of the interfering shirt and pants, touching skin as much as possible, and when he finally slides off the gray boxer-briefs Stiles is panting in anticipation.

"Please," he whimpers, and Derek obeys, fisting his hand around both of their cocks, his own still slick with spit, and pumping them roughly once. Stiles cries out and his back jerks up off the bed, arms winding around Derek's back and finding his ass, giving it a hard squeeze. Derek lets out a harsh breath and starts pumping his hand in a punishing rhythm, other hand joining in. Stiles is making little sounds at the end of each breath, fingers compulsively squeezing, before he finally arches up, tight as a whip, and comes in streams all over his own chest. Derek looks down at him, rapt, and pumps his own cock twice, hard, before he goes still and tense and comes all over his hand and Stiles.

They lay still for a while, silent except for their harsh breaths. Stiles finally rolls over to face Derek, and there's a happy smile on his face, but he still whispers, "I'm sorry." At Derek's confused look, he continues, "I meant for that to be slower, nicer. For us to "make love."" He makes air quotes above them on the bed, then lets his hands drop, one landing on Derek's waist and stroking up and down. Derek rolls his eyes. "You idiot," he sighs, but his mouth is quirked up and Stiles laughs.

"Or that was the sexiest sex ever and we are going to have so many chances to do it that you won't even remember the first time."

"Mm," Derek agrees, and reaches out to pull Stiles up against him, resting his head against his collarbone.

Stiles makes a contented noise and closes his eyes. Before he drifts off he kisses the top of Derek's head fondly and whispers, "I really like you a lot. So much."

Derek doesn't reply, but Stiles can feel his smile pressed against his chest, and with an answering grin he falls asleep.


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